I The Shock
Shock invaded the home, uninvited, much like the country preacher on a lazy Sunday afternoon. It came with a vengeance, much like an angry cancer, spreading its venom swiftly, infecting its unsuspecting victims into surrender. Like Rosa Parks, shock came with the melody of a song; 'I shall not be moved'.
The Buchanans were seated comfortably around the Big Screen TV waiting for the formal announcement, the announcement that would license them to continue driving on the road they now traveled. Six months they had waited, waited with hope, like Rachael, praying and weeping for her children.
Thirteen year old Russell, and his twelve year old brother Lamarr, had been invited to go roller skating with friends. Nine year old twins, Amanda and Keith, would be attending a Salt 'N' Pepa outdoor concert later that day, and were eager to get with friends to find out if they'd also be attending. But parents Regina and Frank had insisted on the family remaining together for the big announcement.
"What time is this going to be over?" asked Amanda in her usual impatient fashion. She was never one to sit still for any length of time. "I need to go out and see if Brittney is still going to the concert." Brittney was Amanda's best friend in the whole world.
"Oh, chill out!" piped in her twin brother Keith. As different as twins could possibly be, they were constantly at war with each other.
Regina attempted to stop what everyone knew would soon become an argument. "Not much longer," she offered.
It had been rumored for some time that Fort McClinton, an Indiana military base where Regina was employed, might be closed, and all of its functions transferred to Fort Hill, another military base in rural Georgia, over four hundred miles away. Rumors such as these were always spreading, ever since the country had begun experiencing a severe budget deficit. Up until now, not much had come of the rumors. Although there had been some personnel cuts and a slight decrease in new hiring, nothing as dramatic as disestablishing an entire military base had ever happened.
The rumors of closing Fort McClinton had recently picked up more momentum, and was now becoming more than just a rumor. Six months ago the closure had been recommended by the Formal Closure Committee, the first step in actually closing a base. The Committee had requested a study to determine the impact of closing Fort McClinton and relocating its willing personnel to Fort Hill.
This recent recommendation had caused the Buchanans some concern. Although there were numerous recommendations by this committee, the Buchanans were hopeful that the study would prove that closing Fort McClinton was not cost effective, and would remove it from the list of possible base closures.
"I wonder how much politics will play into this?" Frank asked Regina.
Frank and Regina were not employed by the same military base. A few years ago, he had accepted a promotion at Fort Justice, another military base in the local area, a decision that had been haunting him ever since the rumors began.
"Well considering the budget deficit, I think cost will prevail," Regina responded, knowing that analyst at Fort McClinton had performed their own assessment of the impact. The results had clearly proven that closing the base was not cost effective. They'd considered all of the costs involved with disestablishment and relocation, and the results had refused to yield any significant savings.
"To disestablish Fort McClinton and relocate all of its personnel would not be cost effective. I think the committee will confirm that," Regina answered, wishing that her confidence could somehow impact the results of the study.
"Let's just hope that saving Fort McClinton is the politically correct thing to do." Frank wasn't about to deny the role politics played in major decisions. He had worked in the public sector enough years to know that.
Although hopeful that the findings would prove uneconomical, Regina and Frank refused to sit around and watch what might become the demise of their future. They rallied in protest to save Fort McClinton. They, along with other hopefuls, appealed to the Formal Committee to save their jobs. They suggested other viable alternatives:
What about another round of reduction in personnel? What about offering an early retirement? What about a voluntary reduction in pay? What about furloughing some of the employees?
The rallies continued throughout the six months of the Committee's investigation, exhausting all efforts to convince the Committee to pursue other alternatives. Local townspeople, churches and businesses joined in the rally. Letters were written to senators and representatives. Children marched in the streets, animals danced in the parades, trips were made to Capitol Hill, all in hopes of saving Fort McClinton.
Ironically, exactly four years to date after the students' protest for democracy at Tiananmen Square in Beijing, civilians at Fort McClinton were protesting for their livelihood in Indiana.
Save our jobs! Save our marriages! Save our lives!
The Buchanans wondered if their hopes would be destroyed, as were many of the students during the Beijing massacre.
In the family room the clock kept ticking, oblivious to the devastation its five o'clock chime would bring. The hands continued to move in circles, clockwise, like a Ferris wheel, sometimes elevating its victims to the sky, other times sinking them to the ground, never stopping to offer any assistance or excuses, never suggesting any words of sympathy or encouragement. Even bribery held no power over the fury of time.
|